Hyperlinked
by ERclaireER
Summary: Ray's in Baton Rouge while Neela's in Chicago, not exactly just around the corner. Though the distance between them seems large, they're really only a click away.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Hyperlinked is an original story right from my own head. Ray and Neela, not from my own head. Another note, I've never been on a dating website, so I don't know what one would look like.**

They told me to move on.

Everybody did; my friends and family here, the PT guy, even the stupid therapist the docs roped me into seeing, claiming it was standard procedure for all victims of traumatic injury. I'm not a quitter, I don't give up real easy, but deep down, I knew they were right. Pining over her hasn't gotten me anywhere. I don't like the guy I've become.

According to my stupid therapist—yes, I stole a glance at the guy's notes when he stepped out to answer his emergency line, big deal—I am an angry, bitter young man, uncomfortable with the idea of change and the possibility of losing my independence. The guy may be a quack, but I can't say I totally disagree with his assessment. He'd know, after all, I did snap at him once or twice, not the mention at my mother, the PT people, and the newspaper delivery kid who I caught staring as if I were some three-headed alien or something. Love may make you do crazy things, but if loving her has turned me into someone even I don't recognize, maybe it's just not worth it.

They told me to move on.

I've been on a few dates, though I never really hit it off with any of them. There was just something missing, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. They were good looking, I'll give 'em that. I never imagined the day would come, though, when I thought a person needed more than just a pretty face. Nothing against my friends, but I swear, every girl they set me up with has been a complete air head. We can't all go to med school, but gimme a break! Giggling, drunk party girls just don't appeal to me like they used to. My mom keeps telling me that these things take time, that unless I go into it with a positive attitude, I'll never be completely satisfied. She says my expectations are too high. She doesn't know the half of it.

They told me to move on.

I was more than willing to end the relationship hunt, but they wouldn't hear of it. I've always considered online dating to be for the truly desperate, yet here I am waiting for the page to load. The "Personal Compatibility Profile"—how cheesy is that?—took forever to complete. I practically gave my life story, and to a bunch of strangers no less. So I'm staring at the screen, watching the little hour glass turn. How long do you suppose it takes to find matches? As if to answer my silent question, a list appears on the screen, a list of usernames. My mouse lingers over the first name, HealingHands. Alright. This is it; the love experts of the online world have worked their magic. Here goes nothing…

**HealingHands**

**Date of Birth:** April 17, 1977 **Age:** 31

**Gender: **Female

**Location:** Illinois

**Occupation:** Surgeon

There's something strangely familiar about this HealingHands…

**Likes:** Pizza with anchovies, KC and the Sunshine Band, televised poker tournaments, Project Runway, field hockey, my job

**Dislikes: **Horror films, ignorant people, public speaking, all-nighters

**My Best Trait: **I'm a good friend and listener

**My Worst Trait: **I can be a bit of a worrywart

I can't wait any longer; I have to know who this is. Scrolling to the bottom of the pages, bypassing information that may or may not be useful to me, I'm looking for the link to her picture. I shouldn't do this, I know I shouldn't. But at this point, it's not about whether I should or not, because I have to. It disgusts me how desperate that sounds. This has actually got me fighting with myself. Why get my hopes up? It's probably not who I think it anyway. But, what if it is? If I pass up this opportunity and it actually is her, I might as well be asking some other lonely online dater to snatch her up.

Okay…waiting for the picture to load…this is torture. Maybe that's the whole point; they thought that the online dating experience would scare me into settling with one of the real-life girls they've chosen for me. I'll show them. Ray Barnett is not a wuss, and just to prove it, I'll contact this HealingHands person, whoever she may or may not be. That's a promise.

They told me to move on, but as I look up at the computer screen and see Neela smiling back at me, I know it's an impossible feat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The storyline is mine. So are the fake profiles. Sheryl was Neela's patient from season 14 episodes "...As the day she was born," "The Truth Will Out," and "Tandem Repeats." Also, I didn't know Ray's birthday, so I had to make one up based on some of the things I do know from the most recent episode.**

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update. I wasn't sure if I was going to add on or just keep it as a one shot, but thanks to DockRock06, who encouraged me to continue, here is chapter two of three**

Sheryl, my aortic rupture patient, set up an account for me on an online dating website. I was against it at first, but her experiences changed my mind. I mean, here's a woman whose condition could deteriorate at any moment, yet she's happier than I've been in a long time. When her husband visits, I can see that sparkle in her eyes. I want to feel that again, that overwhelming love. For awhile I let myself believe that he'd come back, we'd let bygones be bygones, and I would feel that way again, but the more I think about it, the more unrealistic it seems. He made it clear that he was done waiting for me to act on my feelings.

A mix of curiosity and desperation sends me to the computer every day after my shift. Sheryl accused me of looking for faults in all of the…what would you call them? Candidates? I'm not trying to be choosy, but I really need this to work out for me. I've had enough disasters in the love department for my liking. I try not to focus too much on that. Anyway, I just got home after a particularly grueling shift and I'm just going to check my emails before spending the remainder of the evening soaking in the tub…it's a guilty pleasure.

Looks like there are two new messages in my inbox. I click open the first. The subject reads _RChee wants to hook up_. The message reads, _Gotcha! Sorry to get your hopes up…I couldn't help myself. Check out the profile I made, all lies…or are they? Wonder how many hits I'll get? _I can't believe I fell for it. RChee…Archie…it's Morris. This wouldn't be the first time one of my coworkers went out of their way to mock me. But, I'm in need of a good laugh, so I'll keep reading. The link takes me to his profile,

**RChee**

**Date of Birth: **wouldn't you like to know **Age:** Unimportant

**Gender: **Male

**Location: **Bachelor Pad overlooking the lake

**Occupation: **Male model and aspiring artist

**Likes: **Ladies, money, ladies with money

**Dislikes: **Needy women, lame parties, the rules

**My Best Trait:** my devastatingly good looks, duh

**My Worst Trait:** Nonapplicable

The photos in his gallery are all doctored, no pun intended…Morris and Oprah, Morris and Victoria Beckham, Morris and Leonardo DiCaprio.. My sides hurt from laughing so hard. I might as well write him a quick reply.

_Ha ha, very funny Morris. And I thought RChee was going to be the one. Ladies with money? Looks like I'm not his type, sorry._

With the message sent, that leaves email number two, this one from a SkunksHollow78. SkunksHollow? Sounds familiar, I just can't seem to place it. With my lack of a social life, the video store has been like a second home to me. Maybe it's a movie I picked up? One I slept through? Whoever it was had simply copy-and-pasted his match list into the email, my name, in bold print, at the top. And that was it. No _should we meet up_. No _tell me more about yourself_. Maybe that's a good sign? Had the message included any of the usual pick up lines, I probably would have deleted it without thinking twice. Instead I follow the link to his profile.

**SkunksHollow78**

**Date of Birth: **January 23, 1977 **Age:** 31

**Location: **Louisiana

**Occupation: **Doctor

**Likes:** Rock n'Roll, playing guitar, Lucky Charms, horror movies

**Dislikes: **being stood up, cleaning

I'm no longer laughing. I'm just angry. Whoever made this one has crossed the line, big time. I'll admit that my friends' attempts to embarrass me (Abby's Abner, Frank's BadCop, Greg's HouseMD, and now RChee) were rather humorous, but to go as far as impersonating someone who meant so much to me, that's just cruel. I'd like to think that I know him. He wouldn't go to an online dating site unless forced against his will. I happen to know that he considers it to be only for the truly desperate.

Just to prove to everyone that I know it's not him, I'll call him up. I know he screens his calls; I tried, unsuccessfully, to reach him when he first left. So here's the idea. If this SkunksHollow is really him, and if I'm really at the top of his match list, he'll pick up. He'd have to know I'm HealingHands: my photo's on the site. If he doesn't pick up, he's still not speaking to me, not like I'd blame him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Same as always. The initiating the conversation bit at the end was inspired by the Adam Sandler movie "Big Daddy" which is also not mine**

**Author's Note: Here it is, the final chapter. After typing it up, I'm not sure if I like the way I ended this, but here's to hoping! Let me know what you think.**

His spoon was mere inches from his mouth when the phone rang. He reluctantly resubmerged the utensil into his bowl of Lucky Charms and grabbed the phone from its temporary home on the kitchen table. Glancing at the caller ID, he nearly choked. Needless to say, he hadn't been expecting to hear back from her so soon, nor did he expect her to call. E-mail would have sufficed, especially considering he didn't even know where to begin.

Neela waited anxiously on the other end. She was torn. Did she want him to answer, or ignore her? It was the dance they'd done for awhile now. She'd call and he wouldn't pick up. She'd send a letter and he'd send it back unopened. After some time, she'd just come to anticipate this sort of response, but tried to contact him regardless. She considered it at least a form of acknowledgement and it became routine. Neela was good with routine. Why should it be any different now? Why, then, was she still so nervous?

"Neela?"

That's why. There was that chance that he'd pick up. "Ray," she began, hoping to avoid the exchange of inevitably awkward pleasantries, "funny thing happened today. I was checking my e-mails, right? Don't laugh, it wasn't my idea, but a patient set up an account for me on this online dating website. Once word got out at County, everyone started making phony accounts and sent me gag messages pretending to be some creep of a guy. It bothered me at first, but I knew it was all in good fun. I got one today though, and I didn't find it the least bit funny-"

"I see where this is going and you should know-" Ray cut in, laughing. She ignored him, continuing,

"Goddammit Ray, it's not funny! It was fine when the people weren't real, when I could read their profiles and laugh until my sides hurt, glad that R-Chee, the money-loving, rule-hating, self-absorbed womanizer doesn't really live among us. I don't know whether or not to be insulted by the fact that my friends aimed to fool me into even considering these people. Do they really think I'll glance at Abner the junk collector's profile and fall in love? What sane person falls for a guy, albeit a fake guy, whose pick-up line is that saying 'one man's trash is another man's treasure!' Joke or not, it's incredibly insensitive. But then they upped the ante..."

Ray laughed. He had harbored so much anger and resentment toward her after the accident that he'd forgotten what a little spitfire his Roomie could be. She had a tendency to make a mountain out of a mole hill and completely lose her cool. While their motives were pure, he wondered if those at County knew how much this hurt her. He wished he had known before he attempted what he thought would be a nice, yet somewhat detached, gesture. "Neela, before you verbally assault your coworkers any more than you already have," he laughed, "It really was me..."

There was silence on the other end. Neela cursed herself for reacting the way she had. This was going just swimmingly. Ray had actually considered giving their relationship another chance and she wrote it off as a cruel joke. "It was?" she managed meekly. "God, Ray, I'm so sorry! I can't tell you how embarrassing this is..." He just laughed. "To your defense, I wouldn't have believed it either. I'm not exactly the online dating type, am I?"

After spending time catching up, Ray asked, "So, what now?" They weren't exactly right around the corner from each other, and distance wouldn't help in the mending of their friendship and the eventual development of a romantic relationship. He'd like to think that it'd be as easy as the occasional phone call, but, even today, a lot was left unsaid. No mention of their respective accidents. No mention of Gates or Katey. No mention of all of the truly horrible things he said to her at the hospital his last day in Chicago. A year had come and gone. Things had changed since then. Neela's voice brought him back to the present. "I'd like to come see you, that is, if I'm welcome…" she said hesitantly. "I mean, if you'd rather I didn't, I'd understand. I just assumed, perhaps wrongfully, that you'd be open to it, considering you're open to this, to us, talking..." she rambled; a nervous tendency. More laughter ensued. "You're welcome any time, Roomie. It'll be like to good ole days."

The two young doctors hung up the phone with the understanding that the new "good ole days" were a long time coming and that tough times and touchy subjects were still ahead. But while yesterday it seemed like an overwhelming feat, today they were that much closer, that much stronger. Initiating the conversation is half the battle.


End file.
